The Storm Of Rumors

By Monday morning, the whispers had grown into a storm. Everywhere I walked, I could feel them clinging to me like shadows. Girls in neat braids leaned close to each other, whispering behind cupped hands. Boys snickered when I passed, their eyes darting toward the teachers and back to me.

“She’s their favorite.”

“Bet she knows something.”

“Why else would they give her attention?”

I wanted to shout that it wasn’t like that—that they weren’t doing anything wrong, that they were simply being kind to a girl who had no one else. But I knew the truth wouldn’t matter. Whispers fed on imagination, not facts.

In English class, I noticed Mr. Daniels pause when he caught sight of me staring down at my empty notebook, unable to focus. His jaw tightened as though he wanted to say something, but he continued the lesson as if nothing was wrong.

By lunchtime, I sat alone at the far edge of the cafeteria, my untouched bread growing stale in my hands. I was trying to stay invisible, but the rumors made me glow like a warning sign.

That was when a folded note appeared on my table. I looked around, but whoever had slipped it there was already gone. With trembling fingers, I opened it. The message was short, written in messy handwriting: Stay away from them. Or else.

Fear clawed its way up my throat. I stuffed the note into my bag, pretending nothing had happened, but my eyes kept darting toward the doors, the windows, the corners where laughter seemed too sharp.

After school, I went to the oak tree as usual. Both teachers were waiting, their faces tight with concern. Mr. Lewis spoke first. “We’ve heard some things are being said.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “They think… they think I’m too close to you.” My voice cracked. “And today I got a note. Someone doesn’t want me near you at all.”

For a long moment, silence hung between us. The leaves rustled in the late afternoon breeze, carrying away words I was too afraid to say.

Mr. Daniels finally crouched so he was eye level with me. His expression was steady, protective. “Clara, listen to me. None of this is your fault. People talk when they don’t understand. You did nothing wrong.”

“But what if they hurt you?” I blurted. “What if the school finds out?”

Mr. Lewis exchanged a glance with him, then placed a hand lightly on my shoulder. “We’ve been carrying secrets long before you noticed us. We know how to keep them safe. But right now, we’re more worried about you.”

My eyes stung with tears I refused to shed. For so long, I had been invisible. Now I was seen—but for the wrong reasons. Yet standing between them, I felt the smallest flicker of safety.

“I won’t break my promise,” I whispered again, more to myself than to them.

And though the storm of rumors swirled louder than ever, I clung to their words like a fragile umbrella, hoping it would be enough to keep me dry.

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